


Golden Sparks Over the Horizon

by purqle_soda



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (i tried to do them justice i swear), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drinking, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Nervous Gays, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, Out of Character Saihara Shuichi, Smoking, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purqle_soda/pseuds/purqle_soda
Summary: Ouma Kokichi was a common whore, through and through. He held himself with as much pride as someone with the title could have, working at a whore house where all he really did was sell his body for cash. Even if it meant sliding up next to weirdos with trenchcoats, cute cowlicks, and shy smiles as bright as the sun for a quick buck.
Relationships: Iruma Miu & K1-B0 & Oma Kokichi, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	Golden Sparks Over the Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, the titles a work in progress. ill probably keep changing it all week. not to mention the spacing oh my god

Strobe lights flashed in his vision, the shitty club music shaking him to his core. Kokichi sat at the bar swinging his legs, a heel dangling off of his toe. A true balancing act. His way too long lashes fluttered as he blinked, tickling his caked cheeks that were littered with holographic star stickers. He sat there, contemplating his life choices as he usually did when he was bored and left alone to pick at his disgusting little brain.  
  
  
  
It was no secret that Ouma Kokichi was a whore. He put it on full display too, overly flirty throughout his highschool years. He was less than liked there, but regardless he slept with closeted guys who swore up and down they were straight, even when they were balls deep in his ass. Sometimes the popular girls would approach him and he usually accepted if he was feeling spicy that particular night. He never held a fancy for boobs as most men did. He even garnered a saying made especially for him.  
  
  


_"You may hate Ouma-kun, but you can't hate the way his ass moves."  
_   
  


He snorts to himself. That's rich. He was practically bullied for being open about his sexuality and his unlimited libido. The constant teasing and sexual harassment weren’t very appreciated. People liked to act real haughty around him too as if he wasn't riding their dick into the sunset a day prior. Kokichi knew he was blessed with a nice body, good genes n' all, but he didn’t think the stress of being pretty was worth the trouble. Granted, it landed him a cushiony job at this cute little whore house, but regardless he didn’t enjoy being treated like some doll. His ego and pride were too big to be babied, and he was smarter than people thought. He let them assume he was stupid though, gave him an advantage.

  
  


Sex was like a drug for him and he sure as hell was addicted. At least it was a "healthy" addiction. He hasn't contracted any STDs... yet. So he sorta counts it as a win. It's no wonder he made it into a job after graduating, bar hopping as he sold his body off to needy greasy married men as soon as he was legal. He wasn't sure why he did it. It was practically the only thing he took pleasure in anymore (pun not intended), save for chess and unrelenting pranks on his friends. Was he even allowed to use the plural version of that word? He only had two friends, who didn't judge him wholeheartedly on his desires, which was appreciative. Miu and Kiibo had stuck through the worst with him and he was grateful. Even if Miu posing like a slut ticks him off sometimes.

  
  


Downing the rest of his martini, he stands up, the clack of his black shiny heels unheard due to the music. His slip dress moved in sync with his hips, the garment hugging his frame in all the right places. He could feel eyes ogling him, but he paid no mind as he stepped into his boss' office.

  
  


Saying Kokichi's boss was an asshole was the biggest understatement of the year. The guy relished in making women uncomfortable, it was sick. It didn't help that he also had his eyes on Kokichi, more specifically the goods he carried. It pissed him off to no end that he was working under him, but the strip club was the best in town really, all the other ones were too greasy or dangerous. And he wouldn't be reducing himself to a street whore either. He may have been a slutty gold digger, but he had standards.

  
  


"...Yeah. So just do your thing, Harley."

  
  


Kokichi's nose scrunched up in disgust at the demeaning nickname. It stuck with him, ever since he put on the subtle Juggalo makeup that day. He hated it. He thought Harley Quinn was a piece of shit broad that was too stupid to hold her weight. Her idiocy is what caused her to rely on men. Something Kokichi was not. It was a personal jab at his fake sugar personality and he wanted to wring Mr. Piggy's neck for it. It was also a jab at the fact he looked too feminine for a guy like him, or as he would say, "a queer." He wasn't wrong but the subtle homophobia was a bit awkward.

  
  


It was then he realized that he was so busy thinking he hadn't been listening to his oinking and didn't even reply. He simply nodded, snarky words slipping from him as he stood up and let himself out. He didn't speak pig either, so what was the point of trying to strike up a conversation?  
  
  
There it was.  
  
  
Kokichi snickered at the joke as he stepped out, quietly making oinking noises to get back at the bitch, despite his inability to hear the mockery. Stepping to his usual spot, he scanned the crowd for poor horny suckers that he could pickpocket. It was too easy. They shimmied up next to him and groped his ass like they owned the place. Meanwhile, Kokichi was stealing their grocery money, all with a cute little smile. He honestly grew numb to the violation, and he didn't know how to feel about it. Part of him enjoyed attention regardless, his underlying narcissism always getting the better of him, as always.

  
  


Wriggling his nose, he busied himself shoving those ugly little thoughts back from where they came. After he finished mentally purging, he analyzed the club once more, eyes glinting with curiosity. Then his eyes landed on him, a tall lanky man who looked to be in his early twenties, sporting a dark navy blue trench coat with a grey sweater pulled over his button-up. The cool colors of his outfit contrasted with the club's vibrant, silly colors. Curiosity poked at him, forcing him to walk over with utter grace as he perched himself on the barstool. Dim yellow piercing eyes scanned him, taking in his presence. He then watched his face heat up and his head swivel to stare at the tumbler glass he was tracing with a finger.

  
  


Kokichi blinked, confused from the sudden visual exchange. Well, that was a nice start. Regaining his bearings, he spoke up, his words laced with sweet poison meant to lure him in.

"Hey there _emo boy_ , whatcha doin' here alone? And don't lie to me either, that tumbler glass isn't keeping you much company, I can tell." It was a mouthful honestly, but it was a decent conversation starter. He chose his words carefully, lacing in a bit of humor to gauge the man's personality type. He cheers to himself seeing him quirk a smile as if holding in a laugh.

  
  
  
"'Emo boy.' That's a new one." The boy hummed, his eyes twinkling slightly. Kokichi felt himself slowly melt under his gaze, the urge to fidget growing.

  
  


"What do they call you Mr. Emo Boy?" Kokichi asked, swinging his legs.

  
  


Another chuckle. "Detective Conan, I guess. Sometimes a ‘Know it all’ if they're feeling extra snarky." He hummed casually, his demeanor becoming more relaxed through the conversation. Must be the alcohol.

  
  


Propping himself up, Kokichi giggled softly, eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. "Ah, so you're a detective. Cute!" He laughs so sugary sweet he almost winces. The detective frowns at that, eyes searching.

  
  


"Your voice is weird."

"How flattering!" Kokichi laughs sarcastically sweet, almost biting out a snarky remark. "Anywhooo... Tell me your name, oh mysterious detective~.."

"S-Sorry… but only if you drop the tone. It's a bit unnerving... B-but that’s just my opinion..."

  
  
He says this slowly as if he's unsure of himself. His stutter says that much. He's sober enough to know boundaries huh? Kokichi doesn't like being told to do things, but he proves interesting enough, so he'll play along. Patience is a virtue.

"'Kay Mr. Emo, Is this better for you?" Kokichi’s tone comes off as a little more snarky now that he wasn’t doing some stupid stage voice. His voice was naturally high pitched of course, but it had a drawl of boredom and slight sarcasm that properly portrayed him as a person. Not his sweet little persona that would do anything for some dick. The detective is a little surprised, but nods (cutely might Kokichi add), and fumbles with the glass he's playing with.

  
  


He nodded and spoke again, his voice hardly wavering now. "Saihara Shuichi... You?"

  
  


"Mm. Ouma." He says vaguely, a glint in his dusty purple eyes. Saihara heats up at this, averting his gaze. Kokichi giggled, leaning more in his personal space. "So what's a guy like you doing here Saihara-chan? Tired of the office whores throwing themselves on you?" Ironic really, considering he was a whore and probably would've fucked Saihara if given a chance in high school. He's careful now. As careful as someone with an unrelenting sex drive can be. Saihara's blush softens, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his coat. "Change of scenery. Heard this was a nice club and I need stress relief." He sighs, looking distant. His gaze then shifts to Kokichi, as if contemplating something.

  
  


"D-do you wanna talk somewhere else..? It's kinda loud a-and I'd like to get to know you better...? If that's okay with you I m-mean..!" He stutters, hands aimlessly moving about as if he's trying to get his point across visually. Kokichi finds it endearing.  
  
  
  
"There's these backrooms made for people to use as a place to wind down." Half-truth there. Sex _is_ a stress reliever. But he wouldn't tell him that. You can't hastily reel in a huge trout, you need to take it slow, make sure he's nice n’ snagged on your hook. "But you gotta pay thirty dollars an hour, shitty I know. I'm just on the clock and I don't wanna lose my job." Kokichi smiles, bumping the price by ten. Saihara seems interested, so he'll milk him for what he's worth.  
  
  
  


A small warm smile hits Kokichi and it makes his heartbeat all too fast, making him almost regret lying to him. He grips the counter, forcing himself to pay attention to the detective with the shiny gold eyes and the cute cowlick on his head that he can't get over.

  
  


"-fine... I wouldn't wanna inconvenience you or your boss.." He chuckled softly, sending Kokichi’s emotions for a loop. His heart thumped in his chest the entire time he led the cute detective to the back, ignoring the stare that he just knew was that mutilated piece of bacon. The carpet felt familiar under his stockings, the thick bundles of wool pushing against his feet. He’d seen these rooms too many times to count.

  
  


They both sit on the bed, awkward silence taking over the room. Kokichi hated awkwardness as much as he hated boredom. So once again he forced himself to start a conversation he hoped Saihara could carry. Because he was sure as hell wouldn’t do all the work.  
  
  
...That’s what she said.

  
  


"So, what's detective work like? Bet it's suuuper gory." He snickered, Saihara smiling with him, seeming to relax at the attempt of conversation.

  
  


Thus launched a discussion about his line of work, his uncle, and just... everything about him. Kokichi couldn't help the fuzzy feeling inside him as he listened to Saihara passionately rant about his latest case or his supportive friends. He even opened up himself, giggling and lying as if he was with Miu or Kiibo. It just felt... so easy with him. Opening up to those cute eyes and pretty peachy lips that quirked whenever he said something funny. The smell of cigarette smoke filling his nose, yet not as unpleasant as he originally thought. They joked back and forth, minutes turning into hours until Kokichi glanced at the wall clock to see his shift ended in 5 minutes.

  
  


"Oh, shit. We've been here for 3 hours-" Kokichi chokes, blinking incredulously at the clock. He then bursts into laughter, Saihara watching with curiosity and confusion.

  
  


"Why's that funny?' Kokichi feels his heart skip a beat at the wrinkle of his nose, finding it way more cute than he should. Kokichi coughed, heat coming to his face. Ignoring it he casually explained to Shu- _Saihara_ that he was a sex worker for the club here and he was a relentless sex-driven maniac, much to his surprise. He got a kick out of seeing him so flustered, teasing him as he whined about his hunch of him just being a nice waiter.

  
  


Soon, yet reluctantly, Saihara departed, paying for the hours he spent with the smaller. Kokichi felt quite bad for tricking him for the price, but he tucks it away, planning to steal a bit of the extra for himself. God knows Mr. Pig isn’t giving him a raise no time soon. They bid goodbye, promises of seeing each other again written on a tiny torn slip in neat script.

  
  


"See you Ouma-kun..." Saihara hummed, hope in his soft tone.

  
  


Kokichi felt his cheeks warm as he mulled over his night on the walk home. It must be hot in here. Because Kokichi Ouma does not blush. Never has and never will. Too in control of his emotions. The violent beat of his heart was definitely not because of stupid Saihara Shuichi, nor was his rosy cheeks and his too wide of a grin he wore the entire way to his shared apartment, only to get teased by Miu. He called her a pig before fleeing to his room, ignoring her little piggy squeals and Kiibo's noises of distress.

  
  


Kokichi fell back on his bed, staring up. He then lifted the phone number into the air as well, looking at it in the moonlight. His face soon became a nice shade of pink that complimented his make-up. It wasn't a big deal, in all honesty. He gets phone numbers all the time. It's fine.

  
  


"...Fuck."

  
  


He curses into the silence, knowing it was definitely not fine.

  
  


But he allowed himself to indulge, thinking about Saihara's sweet voice as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, not bothering to change clothes. His dreams show flashes of blue and gold, adorned with cute emo boy smiles that stretch as wide as the horizon.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hooga booga.
> 
> babies first (official) saiou, be nice or ill cry.


End file.
